Subj: Tear Jerker1 Stories
(Includes 13 jokes and articles, 24 1119n,3,cf,wXT2a,2)
AGAG Animation Gallery
Also see ARTIST file - 'The
BASEBALL file- 'Tale of a Sport's Mom'
CARS2 file - 'Moonlight Ride'
CHRISTMAS1 - 'A Box of Kisses'
CHRISTMAS-SUP- 'The Christmas Shoes Song By NewSong' - Video
FIREMEN file - 'Eric, a Firefighter In Denmark' - Video
......................- 'The Littlest Fireman'
FUNERAL file - 'Keep Your Fork'
HANDICAPPED - 'Shay Plays Baseball'
HANDICAP-SUPP- 'Strongest Dad In The World'
MAILMAN-ETC - 'Doggie Heaven'
MOVIES-TV-PLY- 'The Man Who Had No Face'
......................- 'Saving Private Ryan'
NEW_YORKER - 'An Awesome 9-11 Story'
PHONE file - 'Information Please'
PLANE1 file - 'Welcoming The Troups In Maine'
......................- 'Coming Home'
PLANE-SUPP2 - 'In Descent Proposal' - Video
POLICE2 file - 'Stopped While Going To Church'
PREACHER file- 'Daddy's Empty Chair'
SANTA file - 'The Real Santa'
SCHOOL2 file - 'Little Teddy's Teacher'
SCHOOL3 file - 'The Sister's "List Of Names" Assignment'
SCHOOL-SUPP3 - 'A Unique Teacher Imparts Real Life Lessons' - Video
STORIES - 'Cab Driver And The 80 Year Old Lady'
STORIES-SUPP - 'The Famous Paper Clips'
THOUGHTSLRND2- 'Rose, A 87 Year Old College Student'
THOUGHTS-TIME- 'Going Back Home For a Neighbors Funeral'
THOUGHTS-WARM- 'Who You Are Makes A Difference'
TRAIN file - 'Army-Navy Football Train'
Subj: Validation (S635d)
By Kurt Kuenna
From: bud32252 on 3/6/2009
"Validation" is a fable about the magic of free parking. Starring
TJ Thyne and Vicki Davis. This video is totally worth the sixteen
minutes of your life it takes to see it. It is absolutely awesome.
You can enjoy this video by clicking 'HERE'.
Subj: Awful-Looking Old Man Knocks At The Door (S45, S321)
From: TNKRTEACH on 97-12-05
and From: mombear1 on 3/23/2003
Our house was directly across
the street from the entrance
to the clinic of the John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore.
We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out-
patients at the clinic.
One summer evening, as I fixed
supper, there was a knock
at the door, I opened it to see a truly awful-looking old
man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old," I
thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. Most
appalling, his face was lopsided from swelling, red and
raw. Yet his voice was pleasant, "Good evening. I've
come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came
for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and
there's no bus till morning." He told me he'd been
hunting for a room since noon but with no success. "I
guess it's my face. I know it looks terrible, but my
doctor says with a few more treatments..."
For a moment I hesitated but
his next words convinced me.
"I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My
bus leaves early in the morning." I told him we would
find him a bed, but meanwhile he could rest on the porch.
I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were
ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No thank-
you. I have plenty." He held up a brown -paper bag.
When I finished the dishes, I
went out on the porch to talk
with him for a few minutes. It didn't take long to see
that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that
tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support
his daughter, her five children and her husband, who was
hopelessly crippled from a back injury. He didn't tell it
by way of complaint. Every other sentence was prefaced
with thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that
no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a
form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the
strength to keep going.
When I got up in the morning,
the bed linens were neatly
folded and the little old man was out on the porch. He
refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus,
he haltingly, as if asking for a great favor, he said,
"Could I please come back and stay the next time I have
to have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit, I can
sleep fine in a chair." He paused a moment and then
added, "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups
are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to
mind." I told him he was welcome to come again.
On his next trip, he arrived
a little after seven in the
morning. As a gift, he brought us a big fish and a quart
of the largest oysters I have ever seen. He said that he
had shucked them that morning before he left so they
would be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m.
and wondered what time he had to get up in order to do
Over the years he came to stay
overnight with us, there
was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters
or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received
packages in the mail, always by special delivery, fish
and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or
kale, each leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must
walk three miles to mail these and how little money he
had made these gifts doubly precious. When I received
these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment
our next-door neighbor had made after the fisherman left
that first morning. "Did you keep that awful-looking
old man last night? I turned him away. You can lose
roomers by putting up such people."
Maybe we did, once or twice.
But oh, if they could have
known him, perhaps their illnesses would be easier to
bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have
known him. From him we learned what it was to accept the
bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.
Recently I was visiting a friend
who has a greenhouse.
As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful
one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with bloom.
But to great surprise, it was growing in an old dented,
rusty bucket. I thought to myself, if this were my plant
I'd put it in the loveliest container I had. My friend
changed my mind. "I ran short of pots," she explained,
"and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought
it wouldn't mind starting in this old pail. It's just for
a little while till I can put it out in the garden." She
must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was
imagining just such a scene in heaven. "Here's an
especially beautiful one. He won't mind starting in this
small ugly body."
Subj: Bartering For Marbles (S421)
From: Joke-Of-The-Day-Mail.com on 2/17/2005
Bob Miller was bagging some early
potatoes for me when I
noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged
but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked
I paid for my potatoes but was
also drawn to the display
of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and
new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help over-
hearing the conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged
boy next to me.
"Hello Barry, how are you today?"
"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank
ya. Jus' admirin' them peas.
Sure look good."
"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"
"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?"
"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."
"Would you like to take some home?"
"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"
"All I got's my prize marble here."
"Is that right? Let me see it."
"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue
and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this
"Not zackley, but almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack
of peas home with you and
next trip this way let me look at that red marble."
"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been
standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she
said, "There are two other boys like him in our community,
all three are in very poor circumstances.
Jim just loves to bargain with
them for peas, apples,
tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red
marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like
red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce
for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps."
I left the stand smiling to myself,
impressed with this man.
A short time later I moved to Colorado but I never forgot
the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering.
Several years went by, each more
rapid that the previous
one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends
in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that
Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that
evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to
accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into
line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer
whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three
young men. One was in an
army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark
suits and white shirts ... all very professional looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller,
standing composed and smiling
by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her,
kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved
on to the casket.
Her misty light blue eyes followed
them as, one by one;
each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand
over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the
mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller.
I told her who I was and
mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. With
her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
"Those three young men who just
left were the boys I told you
about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim
"traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his
mind about color or size ... they came to pay their debt."
"We've never had a great deal
of the wealth of this world,"
she confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the
richest man in Idaho."
With loving gentleness she lifted
the lifeless fingers of
her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely
shined red marbles.
This is Rex Barker C.S. (Crying
Softly) reminded that we will
not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds.
Life is not measured by the breaths
we take, but by the
moments that takes our breath.
Subj: The Boys Of Iwo Jima (S603)
From: ICohen on 11/04/2000
and From: rfslick on 7/28/2008
| The Boys of Iwo
Written by Wisconsin Resident,
Michael T. Powers
Each year I am hired to go to
This fall's trip was especially
|Photo from Snopes.com
Over one hundred students and
chaperones piled off the buses
and headed towards the memorial.
I noticed a solitary figure at
the base of the statue, and
as I got closer he asked, "Where are you guys from?" I told
him that we were from Wisconsin. "Hey, I'm a cheesehead too!
Come gather around Cheeseheads, and I will tell you a story."
(James Bradley just happened
to be in Washington DC to speak
at the memorial the following day.)
He was there that night to say
good night to his dad, who
has since passed away. He was just about to leave when he
saw the buses pull up. I videotaped him as he spoke to us,
and received his permission to share what he said from my
It is one thing to tour the incredible
history in Washington DC. But it is quite another to get
the kind of insight we received that night. When all had
gathered around he reverently began to speak. Here are his
words that night.
"My name is James Bradley and
I'm from Antigo, Wisconsin.
My dad is on that statue, and I just wrote a book called
"Flags of Our Fathers" which is #5 on the New York Times
Best Seller list right now. It is the story of the six boys
you see behind me. Six boys raised the flag.
The first guy putting the pole
in the ground is Harlon Block
Harlon was an all-state football player. He enlisted in the
Marine Corps with all the senior members of his football
team. They were off to play another type of game. A game
called "War." But it didn't turn out to be a game. Harlon,
at the age of 21, died with his intestines in his hands. I
don't say that to gross you out, I say that because there
are generals who stand in front of this statue and talk about
the glory of war. You guys need to know that most of the
boys in Iwo Jima were 17, 18, and 19 years old.
(He pointed to the statue.)
You see this next guy? That's Rene Gagnon from New Hampshire.
If you took Rene's helmet off at the moment this photo was
taken, and looked in the webbing of that helmet, you would
find a photograph. A photograph of his girlfriend. Rene put
that in their for protection, because he was scared. He was
18 years old. Boys won the battle of Iwo Jima. Boys. Not
The next guy here, the third
guy in this tableau, was Sergeant
Mike Strank. Mike is my hero. He was the hero of all these
guys. They called him the "old man" because he was so old. He
was already 24. When Mike would motivate his boys in training
camp, he didn't say, "Let's go kill some Japanese" or "Let's
die for our country."
He knew he was talking to little
boys. Instead he would say,
"You do what I say, and I'll get you home to your mothers."
The last guy on this side of
the statue is Ira Hayes, a Pema
Indian from Arizona. Ira Hayes walked off Iwo Jima. He went
into the White House with my dad. President Truman told him,
"You're a hero." He told reporters, "How can I feel like a
hero when 250 of my buddies hit the island with me and only 27
of us walked off alive?" So you take your class at school.
250 of you spending a year together having fun, doing every-
thing together. Then all 250 of you hit the beach, but only
27 of your classmates walk off alive. That was Ira Hayes. He
had images of horror in his mind. Ira Hayes died dead drunk,
face down at the age of 32. Ten years after this picture was
The next guy going around the
statue is Franklin Sousley from
Hilltop Kentucky. A fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. His best friend,
who is now 70 told me, "Yeah you know, we took two cows up on
the porch of the Hilltop General Store. Then we strung wire
across the stairs so the cows couldn't get down. Then we fed
them Epson salts. Those cows crapped all night." Yes he was
a fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. Franklin died on Iwo Jima at the
age of 19. When the telegram came to tell his mother that he
was dead, it went to the Hilltop General Store. A barefoot boy
ran that telegram up to his mother's farm. The neighbors could
hear her scream all night and into the morning. The neighbors
lived a quarter of a mile away.
The next guy, as we continue
to go around the statue is my dad,
John Bradley from Antigo, Wisconsin, where I was raised. My
dad lived until 1994, but he would never give interviews. When
Walter Kronkite's producers, or the New York Times would call,
we were trained as little kids to say, "No, I'm sorry sir, my
dad's not here. He is in Canada fishing. No, there is no
phone there sir. No, we don't know when he is coming back."
My dad never fished or even went to Canada. Usually he was
sitting there right at the table eating his Campbell's soup.
But we had to tell the press that he was out fishing. He did
not want to talk to the press. You see, my dad didn't see him-
self as a hero.
Everyone thinks these guys are
heroes, 'cause they are in a
photo and a monument. My dad knew better. He was a medic.
John Bradley from Wisconsin was a caregiver. In Iwo Jima he
probably held over 200 boys as they died. And when boys died
in Iwo Jima, they writhed and screamed in pain. When I was a
little boy, my third grade teacher told me that my dad was a
hero. When I went home and told my dad that, he looked at me
and said, "I want you always to remember that the heroes of
Iwo Jima are the guys who did not come back. DID not come back."
So that's the story about six
nice young boys. Three died on
Iwo Jima, and three came back as national heroes. Overall 7000
boys died on Iwo Jima in the worst battle in the history of the
My voice is giving out, so I
will end here. Thank you for your
time." Suddenly the monument wasn't just a big old piece of
metal with a flag sticking out of the top. It came to life
before our eyes with the heartfelt words of the son who did
indeed have a father who was a hero. Maybe not a hero for the
reasons most people would believe, but a hero none-the-less.
This story is verivied at true
by Snopes.com at
Subj: Everybody Has A Dream (S80)
From: smiles on 98-08-10
Everybody Has A Dream
By Virginia Satir
(c) 1993 Chicken Soup for the Soul
Some years ago I took on an assignment
in a southern county
to work with people on public welfare. What I wanted to
do was show that everybody has the capacity to be self-
sufficient and all we have to do is to activate them. I
asked the county to pick a group of people who were on
public welfare, people from different racial groups and
different family constellations. I would then see them as
a group for three hours every Friday. I also asked for a
little petty cash to work with as I needed it.
The first thing I said after
I shook hands with everybody
was,"I would like to know what your dreams are." Everyone
looked at me as if I were kind of wacky.
"Dreams? We don't have
dreams." I said, "Well, when you
were a kid what happened? Wasn't there something you wanted
One woman said to me, "I don't
know what you can do with
dreams. The rats are eating up my kids"
"Oh," I said. "That terrible.
No, of course, you are very
much involved with the rats and your kids. How can that be
"Well, I could use a new screen door
because there are holes
in my screen door."
I asked, "Is there anybody around
here who knows how to fix
a screen door?"
There was a man in the group,
and he said, "A long time ago
I used to do things like that but now I have a terribly bad
back, but I'll try."
I told him I had some money if
he would go to the store and
buy some screening and go and fix the lady's screen door.
"Do you think you can do that?"
"Yes, I'll try."
The next week, when the group
was seated, I said to the woman,
"Well is your screen door fixed?"
"Oh, yes," She said.
"Then we can start dreaming,
can't we?" She sort of smiled at
me. I said to the man who did the work ,"How do you feel?"
He said, "Well, you know, it's
a very funny thing. I'm
beginning to feel a lot better."
That helped the group to begin
to dream. These seemingly
small successes allowed the group to see that dreams were
not insane. These small steps began to get people to see
and feel that something really could happen.
I began to ask other people about
their dreams. One woman
shared that she always wanted to be a secretary. I said,
"Well, what stands in your way?" (That's always my next
She said, "I have six kids, and
I don't have anyone to take
care of them while I'm away."
"Let's find out," I said. "Is
there anybody in this group
who would take care of six kids for a day or two a week
while this woman gets some training here at the community
One woman said "I got kids, too, but I could do that."
"Let's do it," I said.
So a plan was created and the
woman went to school.
Everyone found something.
The man who put in the screen
door became a handyman. The woman who took in the children
became a licensed foster care person. In 12 weeks I had
all these people off public welfare. I've not only done
that once, I've done it many times.
Subj: You Are My Sunshine
From: Anaise on 98-05-24
Like any good mother, when Karen
found out that another baby
was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-
old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They find out
that the new baby is going to be a girl, and day after day,
night after night, Michael sings to his sister in Mommy's
The pregnancy progresses normally
for Karen, an active member
of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown,
Tennessee. Then the labor pains come. Every five minutes...
every minute. But complications arise during delivery. Hours
of labor. Would a C-section be required? Finally, Michael's
little sister is born. But she is in serious condition. With
siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant
to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital,
The days inch by. The little
girl gets worse. The pediatric
specialist tells the parents, "There is very little hope. Be
prepared for the worst." Karen and her husband contact a
local cemetery about a burial plot. They have fixed up a
special room in their home for the new baby, now they plan a
Michael, keeps begging his parents
to let him see his sister,
"I want to sing to her," he says.
Week two in intensive care.
It looks as if a funeral will
come before the week is over. Michael keeps nagging about
singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive
Care. But Karen makes up her mind. She will take Michael
whether they like it or not. If he doesn't see his sister
now, he may never see her alive.
She dresses him in an oversized
scrub suit and marches him
into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the
head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows, "Get that
kid out of here now! No children are allowed in ICU."
The mother rises up strong in
Karen, and the usually mild-
mannered lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse's face,
her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving until he sings to
Karen tows Michael to his sister's
bedside. He gazes at
the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins
to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael
"You are my sunshine, my only
sunshine, you make me happy
when skies are gray --- " Instantly the baby girl responds.
The pulse rate becomes calm and steady.
Keep on singing, Michael.
"You never know, dear, how much
I love you,
Please don't take my sunshine away---"
The ragged, strained breathing
becomes as smooth as a
Keep on singing, Michael.
"The other night, dear, as I
lay sleeping, I dreamed I
held you in my arms..." Michael's little sister relaxes
as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her. Tears
conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows.
"You are my sunshine, my only
sunshine. Please don't,
take my sunshine away."
The girl is well enough to go
home! Woman's Day magazine
called it "The miracle of a brother's song." The medical
staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle
of God's love. A few weeks later, Michael's little sister
was baptized at the Panther Creek Church.
Orphan Jaden Hayes Smiles (S970d)
Published by CBS Evening News
From: Kristine Passalacqua on Facebook
Photo from Today News
Jaden Hayes lost both of his
parents at a young age. But he
is determined to live life with joy. As Steve Hartman shows
us, the six-year-old is embarking on a mission to turn frowns
into smiles. Click 'HERE' to hear Jaden's wonderful story.
Subj: One Prom, One Boy, Seven Dates
From: Anaise on 98-05-19
This was in the news this morning, so it must be true! --Ann
One date is often a handful,
but Luke Buchheit, 17, of
McMinnville, OR, pulled off an incredible feat by bringing
seven young ladies to the prom.
As the big day approached, Buchheit
didn't know who to invite,
so he asked his cousin how many girls still had no dates for
the big dance.
"I might have been half-joking
at first when I said I'd take
them all, but then I thought, this might be kind of cool,"
So in the weeks before the May
2 prom, Buchheit made seven
phone calls. Then he ordered seven corsages and a boutonniere
with seven rhinestones.
He also worked to raise $500
to buy eight prom tickets, his
tux and an eight person dinner.
Seated at the head of the table,
flanked by two rows of girls,
Buchheit couldn't help but feel it was worth it.
Men stopped to pat him on the
back and grinned foolishly. An
elderly woman worked up the nerve to ask what everyone else
"Does one of you have a date
and the rest are going stag?" she
"No," the girls said. "We're all going with Luke."
Though the girls joked about
"Luke's harem," friendship
overruled romance. Many of the teens have known each other
Subj: The Other Woman (S449)
From: auntiegah on 8/20/2005
After 21 years of marriage, I
discovered a new way of keeping
alive the spark of love. A little while ago I had started to
go out with another woman. It was really my wife's idea. "I
know that you love her," she said one day, taking me by
surprise. "But I love YOU," I protested. "I know, but you
also love her."
The other woman that my wife
wanted me to visit was my mother,
who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work
and my three children had made it possible to visit her only
That night I called to invite
her to go out for dinner and a
movie. "What's wrong, are you well?" she asked. My mother is
the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a
surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.
"I thought that it would be pleasant
to pass some time with
you," I responded. "Just the two of us." She thought about
it for a moment then said "I would like that very much." That
Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit
nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too,
seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door
with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the
dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary.
She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's. "I
told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they
were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't
wait to hear about our meeting".
We went to a restaurant that,
although not elegant, was very
nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First
Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu to her. Her
eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entree,
I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A
nostalgic smile was on her lips. "It was I who used to have
to read the menu when you were small," she said. "Then it's
time for you to relax and let me return the favor," I responded.
During the dinner we had an agreeable
extraordinary - but catching up on recent events of each others
lives. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we
arrived at her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you
again, but only if you let me invite you". I agreed. "How
was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home. "Very
nice. Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered.
A few days later my mother died
of a massive heart attack. It
happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything
for her. Some time later I received an envelope with a copy of
a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined.
An attached note said: "I paid this bill in advance. I was
almost sure that I couldn't be there but, nevertheless, I paid
for two plates -one for you and the other for your wife. You
will never know what that night meant to me. I love you."
At that moment I understood the
importance of saying, in time:
"I LOVE YOU" and giving our loved ones the time that they
deserve. Nothing in life is more important than God and your
family and friends. Give them the time they deserve, because
these things cannot be put off 'til "some other time". Some-
one once said "I've learned that, regardless of your relation-
ship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone
from your life. I think this is true with your in-laws,
grandchildren, sisters, brothers and your friends. Anyone
that means something to you-you should spend time with them
and let them know how much they mean to you as often as you
Subj: Flowers For Mom (S658)
From: RFSlick on 98-05-13
A man stopped at a flower shop
to order some flowers to be
wired to his mother who lived two hundred miles away. As he
got out of his car he noticed a young girl sitting on the curb
sobbing. He asked her what was wrong and she replied,
"I wanted to buy a red rose for my mother, but I only have
seventy-five cents. A rose costs two dollars."
The man smiled and said, "Come
on in with me. I'll buy you a
He bought the little girl her
rose and ordered his own mother's
flowers. As they were leaving he offered the girl a ride home.
She said, "Yes, please! You can take me to my mother."
She directed him to a cemetery,
where she placed the rose on
a freshly covered grave.
After he left the girl, the man
returned to the flower shop,
cancelled the wire order, picked up a bouquet and drove the
two hundred miles to his mother's house.
Subj: Reflections of the Vietnam Wall (S68)
From: RFSlick on 98-05-13
If you've ever seen the painting
"Reflections" of the
Vietnam Wall in Washington, you've seen the man
standing there with his hand on the wall, mourning
his dead father or brother who was killed. What he
doesn't see is the reflection from the other side
showing that relative with HIS hand on the wall,
touching the hand of his survivor. That painting
inspired this story.
FROM THE OTHER SIDE
By Patrick Camunes
"There are so many things that
are written about
the Wall but never anything of being on the other
side. I was inspired by the picture Reflections that I
use as wallpaper on my PC and a recent story,
At first there was no place for
us to go until
someone put up that Black Granite Wall. Now,
everyday and night, my Brothers and my Sisters
wait to see the many people from places afar file in
front of this Wall. Many stopping briefly and many
for hours and some that come on a regular basis. It
was hard at first, not that it's gotten any easier, but
it seems that many of the attitudes towards that war
that we were involved in have changed. I can only
pray that the ones on the other side have learned
something and more Walls as this one needn't be
Several members of my unit and
many that I did not
recognize have called me to the Wall by touching
my name that is engraved upon it. The tears aren't
necessary but are hard even for me to hold back.
Don't feel guilty for not being with me, my Brothers.
This was my destiny as it is yours, to be on that
side of the Wall.
Touch the Wall, my Brothers,
so that we can share
in the memories that we had. I have learned to put
the bad memories aside and remember only the
pleasant times that we had together. Tell our other
Brothers out there to come and visit me, not to say
Good Bye but to say Hello and be together again,
even for a short time and to ease that pain of loss
that we all share.
Today, an irresistible and loving
call comes from
the Wall. As I approach I can see an elderly lady
and as I get closer I recognize her.......It's Momma!
As much as I have looked forward to this day, I
have also regretted it because I didn't know what
reaction I would have.
Next to her, I suddenly see my
immediately think how hard it must of been for her
to come to this place and my mind floods with the
pleasant memories of 30 years past. There's a
young man in a military uniform standing with his
arm around her......My God!......It's...it has to be my
son. Look at him trying to be the man without a
tear in his eye. I yearn to tell him how proud I am,
seeing him standing tall, straight and proud in his
Momma comes closer and touches
the Wall and I
feel the soft and gentle touch I had not felt in so
many years. Dad has crossed to this side of the
Wall and through our touch, I try to convey to her
that Dad is doing fine and is no longer suffering or
feeling pain. I see my wife's courage building as
she sees Momma touch the Wall and she
approaches and lays her hand on my waiting hand.
All the emotions, feelings and memories of three
decades past flash between our touch and I tell her
that it's all right. Carry on with your life and don't
worry about me......I can see as I look into her eyes
that she hears and understands me and a big
burden has been lifted from her.
I watch as they lay flowers and
other memories of
my past. My lucky charm that was taken from me
and sent to her by my CO, a tattered and worn
teddy bear that I can barely remember having as I
grew up as a child and several medals that I had
earned and were presented to my wife. One of them
is the Combat Infantry Badge that I am very proud
of and I notice that my son is also wearing this
medal. I had earned mine in the jungles of
Vietnam and he had probably earned his in the
deserts of Iraq.
I can tell that they are preparing
to leave and I try to
take a mental picture of them together, because I
don't know when I will see them again. I wouldn't
blame them if they were not to return and can
only thank them that I was not forgotten. My wife
and Momma near the Wall for one final touch and
so many years of indecision, fear and sorrow are
let go. As they turn to leave I feel my tears that had
not flowed for so many years, form as if dew drops
on the other side of the Wall.
They slowly move away with only
a glance over
their shoulder. My son suddenly stops and slowly
returns. He stands straight and proud in front of
me and snaps a salute. Something makes him
move to the Wall and he puts his hand upon the
Wall and touches my tears that had formed on the
face of the Wall and I can tell that he senses my
presence there and the pride and the love that I
have for him. He falls to his knees and the tears
flow from his eyes and I try my best to reassure him
that it's all right and the tears do not make him any
less of a man.
As he moves back wiping the tears
from his eyes,
he silently mouths, God Bless you, Dad...... God
Bless, YOU, Son...... We WILL meet someday but
in the meanwhile, go on your way...... There is no
hurry.......There is no hurry at all.
As I see them walk off in the
distance, I yell out to
THEM and EVERYONE there today, as loud as I
can,.........THANKS FOR REMEMBERING and as
others on this side of the Wall join in, I notice that
the US Flag that so proudly flies in front of us
everyday, is flapping and standing proudly straight
out in the wind today. THANK YOU ALL FOR REMEMBERING.....
Subj: Attitude Is Everything By Francie Baltazar-Schwartz
From: DR SWITZER on 97-06-03
and From: rfslick on 4/6/2008 (S40, S586c)
Hi: this came to me from my friend's
(Boy Scouts). It is well worth passing on.
Jerry was the kind of guy you
love to hate. He was always
in a good mood and always had something positive to say.
When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply,
"If I were any better, I would be twins!"
He was a unique restaurant manager
because he had several
waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to
restaurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was
because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If
an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling
the employee how to look on the positive side of the
situation. Seeing this style really made me curious, so
one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get
it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How
do you do it?"
Jerry replied, "Each morning
I wake up and say to myself,
'Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be
in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I
choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad
happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to
learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time
someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept
their complaining or I can point out the positive side of
life. I choose the positive side of life."
"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.
"Yes it is," Jerry said. "Life
is all about choices. When
you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice.
You choose how you react to situations. You choose how
people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good
mood or bad mood. The bottom line - It's your choice how
you live life."
I reflected on what Jerry said.
Soon there after, I left
the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost
touch, but often thought about him when I made a choice
about life instead of reacting to it.
Several years later, I
heard that Jerry did something you
are never supposed to do in a restaurant business. He left
the back door open one morning and was held up at gunpoint
by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his
hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination.
The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found
relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center.
After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry
was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets
still in his body. I saw Jerry about six months after the
accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I
were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?"
I declined to see his wounds,
but did ask him what had gone
through his mind as the robbery took place.
"The first thing that went through
my mind was that I should
have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay
on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices I could
choose to live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live.
"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.
Jerry continued, "The paramedics
were great. They kept
telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled
me into the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the
faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared.
In their eyes, I read, 'He's
a dead man.' I knew I needed
to take action."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Well, there was a big, burly
nurse shouting questions at
me," said Jerry.
"She asked if I was allergic
to anything. 'Yes,' I replied.
The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for
my reply... I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!'
Over their laughter, I told them,
'I am choosing to live.
Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead.'"
Jerry lived thanks to the skill
of his doctors, but also
because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that
every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude,
after all, is everything.
Subj: Taps (S119)
From: JOELFALLON on 97-02-21
..........See 'True Story Of Taps' in STORIES